Boys in Leather
by Vonsaire
Summary: Zevran is a young Crow, recently graduated, and callous from his upbringing. Upon meeting a boy his age, he begins to explore his sexuality and overcome his fear of men, love, and vulnerability. Meanwhile, he gets involved in some dire Antivan politics... Set before the game. M for adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

"This is no place for a child." The woman sighed and sat down, her face wrinkled and distraught. "I've tried to help him, but we just can't afford it anymore." She waved her hand as though she could dismiss any contradiction. "Besides, he's a disturbance. No customer here wants to see a child." She felt bad for the young woman beside her, but she had a business to run. A rather callous business. The girl would forget in time; they all forgot, if they worked here long enough. In such a place, love stood only as a burden.

The young girl burst out in tears. "I should have done it a long time ago. He knows me, now. He'll remember that I did this-" Her cries strangled the words in her throat.

The older woman placed a cold hand upon her shoulder. "He'll understand someday. Probably sooner than later. Once he realizes what this world is, he won't begrudge you for it. Now come on, you've got someone waiting. Your surrogate son can stay here until the end of the week. Come on, stop crying. There, there. Now wipe your face, and comb your hair..."

Zevran watched his caretaker and the proprietor exit the room. The dresser that hid him was cracked slightly, so that he had heard and seen everything. Perhaps it was the look on her face, more than the news, that made him curl up inside the dresser. He wasn't sure- of anything. A mere child, he could hardly understand what he had learned, but anger coiled itself around his heart, intangible and unexplained. He felt its whispers of betrayal, even if he could not denote the emotion. He felt fear in its gripping pounce seize him, and then he felt sure that they would not sell him. She could not. A mere child, it was incomprehensible.

* * *

Sixteen and already graduated- it sounded pretty good to him. Even though he was a young Crow, he had killed plenty, receiving the same respect as more seasoned assassins. It was probably just the name. He had found that being a Crow meant being less of an individual; you could reap the benefits of the group, sure, but no one would ever know your name.

Off duty for the night, he found himself wandering the streets of Antiva. Women passed him and eyed him, especially human women. It was strange, but even stranger was what some women did with the elves, and he saw that everyday. Women loved the forbidden. An elf assassin? He had his bases covered.

A sweet smell of fruit, soured a little by the alcohol, floated in the air. Ah, he had reached his favorite place. He stepped into the tavern lightly and scouted the area. A boy, perhaps older than him- he couldn't tell- sat alone at a table.

"My," he purred, "You have beautiful eyes. A sad face on you is an injustice."

The boy responded with a glare before returning his gaze back onto the table. His black hair hung limp around his face, hiding it in shadow.

"That wasn't very nice. I would consider myself more interesting than the table."

The boy looked up again-his lips turning up in a smirk- and Zevran faltered at the brightness of his blue eyes. He wasn't into boys, but he appreciated beauty when he encountered it. Some days life smiled upon him just a little bit more.

"Did I hurt your feelings, elf?"

Zevran laughed. "You must not realize what I am."

For a moment, the boy's brow furrowed. Red rushed to his cheeks as he realized who he had offended. "So, you're one of them. I'll take whatever punishment. I won't apologize, though."

Raising an eyebrow, Zevran examined the boy. "Stubborn, proud, and strong. Deserving of some punishment. Tell me your name."

"Matlock."

"And your age?"

"I'm seventeen." He bit his lip. "Is this the punishment? Because it certainly feels like it."

"May I?" Zevran motioned to the table and sat down without waiting for a response. "Normally I would be busy tonight, but seeing as there are no beautiful ladies to be found, I find myself a little lonely."

Matlock ran his hand through his hair, and his eyes gleamed with an unreadable spark. "So you don't have any friends in that large organization of yours?"

Zevran let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, I have people to talk to, but there are no friends with assassins. We have been...pitted against each other since our youth."

"Well, you won't find anyone to help you here. I'm a little busy, if you couldn't tell." The venom in Matlock's voice brushed the surface of Zevran's exterior, but he shook it off quickly. In a way, Matlock fascinated him. He had never met anyone who talked to him with such confidence and hostility, excluding his masters, of course.

Matlock continued, his tone transforming as urgency crept into it, "Really, you should go. I'm waiting for someone."

Zevran feigned a smile and stood up. Turning towards Matlock, he said in an urbane yet playful voice, "Ah, I see. Enjoy your night, and if you find yourself wanting dessert, you know where I am." The disappointment that hovered within his heart was soon pushed out into the void, leaving his heart empty. Why be disappointed, anyway? Was he that desperate for a friend? Some woman would come and wash it all away, and he wouldn't even remember Matlock's face. It's why he never minded when women rejected him- though it happened rarely. Plenty of women in Antiva. More than enough to satisfy him.

As though the universe had heard his thoughts, a young girl with brown curls and bright eyes walked into the tavern. "Ah there's my cue. My fun for the evening has just arrived." Matlock said nothing- he didn't even look up- and Zevran left the table, positioning himself near the girl. It was strange that she was alone, but he took it as a blessing. Fathers were always a pain to navigate around.

She looked at him and smiled before motioning him to come to her. He obeyed, but not before casting a searching glance back at Matlock. It bothered him that Matlock had not even bothered to acknowledge his departure.

Shifting his thoughts as he neared her, he spoke coyly, "I could not help but notice how tired and weary you are. Care for some brandy and a massage? My fingers are quite nimble."

She raised her eyebrow. "And the brandy?"

"It is quite sweet, as are you."

She laughed and held out her hand; he kissed it with an absent mind. It was too easy. So easy it wasn't even that fun. Still, this never had been the good part.

"What is a beautiful lady like you doing in an unruly place such as this?"

She began talking, but his eyes wandered over to Matlock. Someone was sitting across from him now, enveloped in shadow. He scrutinized the figure with an anxiousness that surprised himself. Was it a man or a woman? He couldn't tell. Its garments were black and its face hid within the shrouds of a cowl. Zevran found himself experiencing vehement suspicion when the girl's-shrill- voice thrust reality back into his face.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmmm?" Zevran covered for himself quickly. "Oh yes, I just become lost when I see a face such as yours. Not that there are many who can compare to your beauty."

She blushed and continued talking.

Zevran shot one last glance at Matlock, but the table was empty. Out of the corner of his eye, Zevran saw Matlock and the stranger leave.

He was left with a faint sting, subtle bursts of unease, and the feeling as though he had left something unsettled. What was worse, he even remembered Matlock's face.


	2. Chapter 2

"Grab your mark and then get out." Master Giordano leaned against the stone wall, nonchalant as he inspected one of his gleaming blades. Zevran shook his head before pulling an order out of the wooden chest. The thick parchment unrolled with a snap, and Zevran skimmed the order over, unimpressed.

"Ah, another one of the nobles' valiant requests."

"Another one of your unnecessary comments," Master Giordano retorted.

Waving his hand with a sarcastic flair, Zevran bowed before Giordano. "A sense of humor is sexy. Perhaps they are on sale today and you can find yourself one that is of fine quality, for the price."

Giordano grunted and was about to reply when another man walked into the room. "Zevran, change of plans. You are to report to the Augustino family tonight. They have a request that must be discussed in person."

"Something interesting. I like it."

* * *

"The Augustinos welcome you," a serving girl said as she opened the large, ornate door. Her cheeks colored and she looked up at Zevran with meek eyes. He walked past her, throwing a faux smile her way, ignoring her otherwise. Even he knew to be appropriate in the house of the powerful.

"The young master will see you in his study."

The fire's warmth greeted him as he walked into the room, along with the smell of parchment and leather; he inhaled deeply, and a slight smile haunted his lips. The head of the Augustino family sat with his back to Zevran, facing the fire, and though he had heard Zevran's entry, he did not turn around. All Zevran could see of him was the black hair that cascaded down unto his shoulders. Carefully, the master spoke, "You know we are loyal to the King."

"But of course. Your mother is the King's brother."

"Then you know that my father's death has made me the second most powerful man in Antiva."

_Debatable_, Zevran thought. Those who ran the ports tended to have better forces than the King. Still, they all squabbled over the throne like pigeons over bread. And then there were the Crows...

"I am honored."

"The Briattis killed my father, and they want to kill me. It's really quite simple. Kill them first." He added, his voice sly and controlled, "Above all, kill Ven." There was something unreadable in his voice, something almost alluring. It reminded him of someone...

"I will do it." As if he had a choice. Although, he would be lying if he said he wasn't _at all_ intrigued.

"Glad to hear it. The reward will be handsome, and I will remember you when I am King."

Zevran laughed to himself as he exited the estate. Nobles always made ridiculous promises. He could bet anyone five sovereigns that his name rendered unknown to all of the Augustinos. He couldn't be more right.

* * *

Zevran stood outside the Briatti house, clad in black, embracing the shrouds night brought in around him. He was already in stealth, of course, but more coverage only helped. Guards and rogues patrolled around the area, and they were inconvenient, to say the least. This mission proved to be challenging. He hadn't heard much about Ven from the Crows. In fact, Ven seemed to keep to himself; even the Augustinos could barely put forth a description. It was as though Ven was the stuff of myths- how was it that the Augustinos blamed him for the recent murder in the family? Either they knew something he didn't, or Ven was innocent and they were making a play for power. Zevran pushed it out of his mind- it was his job to kill Ven, no matter what.

Shouting, and then an eruption of flame that made night into day, aroused him from his musing. He sprinted towards the commotion, taking care not to be seen. A figure in black robes stood a ways off in the trees while thrusting flames and ice and lightning at a mob of cursing Briatti guards.

This was his chance to break into the house.

"Assassin! They've sent an assassin!" Sounding like a frantic, dying beast, one of the guards screamed as Zevran's stealth wore off. Despite the mage's efforts, more guards could be seen rushing from the house, gathering before the main entrance of the estate.

Never mind, it was time for him to vanish.

The mage dispersed another fireball, the force knocking Zevran off his feet and onto something...soft?

"Get off me!"

Zevran lifted his head and found himself welcomed by burning blue eyes.

"Matlock?"

"Get off me! Come on, we have to get out of here!"

Zevran jumped to his feet, Matlock in quick succession, and they ran past the simmering guards towards one of the stone walls protecting the estate.

"I know a way out," Matlock whispered between heaving breaths.

"I see you come here often."

"Shut up. This way." He jumped onto the wall and climbed to the top, using the ragged edges for footholds. "This is the easiest wall to climb," he yelled, his voice nearly inaudible in all the chaos.

Zevran- in the deftness that comes with being an assassin- scaled the wall in seconds, and together they jumped down into an alleyway of Antiva. The scent of salt and sea greeted them.

"Follow me," Matlock commanded. After traveling through a few backstreets, they found themselves on the docks, gazing out onto calm, moonlit waters.

"Insanity. Pure insanity," he said, and his breathing was still heavy.

Zevran laughed. "I am a little used to it."

Matlock looked puzzled before recollection flooded his face. "Oh that's right. You're a Crow."

He didn't remember? Zevran couldn't help but feel pierced; this was evidence that Matlock hadn't thought of him at all.

As if perceiving the injury he caused, Matlock smiled- a mischievous smile- and said, "Don't worry. I couldn't forget those atrocious jokes you made. And how you wouldn't leave me alone- I remember that, too."

"Hmph. I recall an evening more pleasant. I also recall your age. Tell me, what was a seventeen year old doing at the Briatti's?"

Matlock's smile faded. "I'm a friend."

"A friend who visits in the night, and whose garments are black. Those are the best friends a man can have."

"It isn't any of your business, but if you must know," and he let out a sigh before continuing, "I'm studying to be a mage. And the mages have something against the Briattis."

"The Circle of Magi have nothing against the Briattis," Zevran said, an understanding creeping into his voice.

"They don't. But these mages...do."

"Well," said Zevran, "It appears we are both handsome men of illegal activity."

Matlock laughed- a real laugh, sweet and gentle and without any undertone- and Zevran felt his heart jump.

He suddenly didn't want to be there anymore.

"I'm afraid I have a job to do." His voice lacked the charm and wit it usually radiated.

Confusion swept over Matlock's delicate visage as he replied, "I thought it'd be harder to get rid of you."

Without thinking, Zevran responded, "Where there is brandy, there is Zevran." He left quickly, but caught himself looking back at Matlock. Matlock, who sat upon the docks, his blue eyes dreamy with the light of the stars and moon, silver outlining his black hair- Zevran felt ice climb down his spine.

Matlock's voice wafted through the mist after him like a soft breeze, "Zevran. What a nice name, for an elf."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews Ventisquear! You're right. Maybe it is too hard of a mission for Zevran, but hopefully I have cleared it up a little. Matlock's story is pretty complicated and I hope I unravel it clearly, but it might be awhile. Prepare to be confused about him until later chapters XD!

A big thanks to everyone who is reading!

Adan is pronounced Ahhhdawn in the sexiest Spanish accent your mind can contrive. (Probably not a sexy character though).

My story is a bit of a stretch, I suppose.  
And I don't own Dragon Age.

* * *

The tavern was full of people, but it might as well have been empty. This was the second time he had hung around, waiting for Matlock to show up. It was risky- taking breaks before he finished an assignment. He had gone to the Crows and related that others were hunting his mark as well. They had given him a drawing of Ven and had told him to lay low; maybe the target would be killed by the others, but in any case, he was not to be seen by them. He didn't relay that the 'others' were mages, or that he had befriended one, of course.

Well, he thought he had befriended one.

"Zevran!" The sound of his name awakened a spring of hope and squirming anticipation that made his heart pound. Not even a moment later, disappointment wrapped its arms around him, and he realized the voice belonged to another Crow. His eyes blank, Adan walked over to Zevran. "Hey, kid, I'm joining you on your mission."

"They did not tell me of this."

"Yeah. They didn't. I'm telling you." Adan's voice contained a hint of sass. Unusual, for him. He sat down across from Zevran with a plate of meat and began to devour it. A grimace passed over Zevran's tan face, and he shifted to the right so that the sprays of food were less likely to hit him.

"They think-" Adan spouted between mouthfuls- "That I will keep you on track. That I will." He laughed, a deep rumble that shook the wooden table.

"Why did they give me this if they thought I couldn't succeed?" Zevran's voice surprised himself; it hissed with anger.

"Turns out this isn't what we thought. It's not as simple as your last mission. But listen, you're a little star, Zevran. They think you're some prodigy. Take it from an old man, be happy. If you succeed, you'll have your reputation sealed." Adan turned back to his meal with all the attention he could muster.

Staring- with some horror and some fascination- at Adan finishing his food, Zevran absorbed his words. He was young still. So, they thought he needed help. At least they kept him on the mark- that meant something. It had to. Confidence swelled him up to his usual inflation, and he asked, hopelessly urbane, "So, old man, what is the plan for tonight?"

"You don't know?" Adan stroked his wide jaw with one hand while his other rested content upon his belly.

"Obviously," Zevran retorted, annoyed. Adan knew how to get under his skin.

"Ven is going to be at a ball tonight. Conveniently for us, it's a masquerade," he said casually as he took a swig from his mug.

"Convenient? How are you going to find him in a place like that? I haven't seen him yet out of costume!"

"Relax, kid. I know exactly who he is. I've seen him before. And I know what he's going to wear. I got ahold of his tailer and got the draw up of his outfit and mask. We saunter in, lure him away, and bam! He's dead." He swung his arm in a fierce motion before pounding his hand onto the surface of the table.

"And the body? People know we do this. But they can't see us do it."

"No one's gonna see it, and no one's gonna care. I've heard this kid has been turning his own family against him. Zevran, you should know this stuff."

A shadow darkened Zevran's eyes. "I know. I've just been...distracted."

Adan laughed as he mumbled, "Prodigy, huh?" His voice deepened as his face became more serious. "What we gotta watch out for is those mages. I don't want to get mixed up in that."

"Yeah. I agree completely." He had to compose himself; Adan could not know about Matlock. Maybe it didn't matter, though. The way things were looking, Zevran wouldn't ever be seen with him, mainly because he wouldn't ever see him again. Why did he walk away? That moment on the docks was so perfect...

Adan's boisterous voice erupted in the silence between them. "Now for the worst part of tonight. We gotta get dressed up."

* * *

The room was uncomfortably crowded. The clamor of voices combatting against the music made Zevran want to cover his ears. He clicked his tongue. The rich and their parties- couldn't they enjoy the simplicity of life? His mask only covered his eyes, forcing him to fake a smile as he clambored awkwardly in his ornate clothes. Adan, for as big as he was, handled himself nicely. He bowed before the women, and his deep laugh quaked as though it rang deep within the Frostback mountains. They both snatched glasses of wine from the servants scurrying by, Adan downing it for fun, Zevran downing it to calm his nerves. Couples swished by them, the dresses of the ladies creating a frosty wind. The colors-swirls of blue, green, and purple- danced and distorted and sped before their eyes. His eyes wandered over the crowd, hectic, searching for the dark mask Adan claimed Ven would be wearing. His outfit was supposedly black in its entirety; Adan said that would make it easier. He'd stick out like a sore thumb, he had said. His voice had been commanding in its confidence, but Zevran wasn't so sure anymore. He began to doubt their abilities in this colorful chaos.

Adan nudged him, murmuring out of the side of his mouth, "Let's go upstairs. We'll see 'im from up there."

They pushed their way through the crowd, not sure if they were moving or if the crowd was moving past them, when finally they reached the first step.

"Keep going. Don't look around." They could feel the snooping eyes of the crowd follow them, an ethereal being, perceiving their intention and judging them with the power of gods.

The top floor was circular, with streaming red carpet and with an engraved railing that went all the way around. At the top of the stairs towered a carved door, and two small doors stood on each side of it. Except for couples that casted wary glances as they snuck kisses up against the walls, the floor was empty.

"He is not here," Zevran said, and exasperation crept into his smooth voice.

Adan ignored him."You take the left door, and I'll take the right."

Zevran nodded before tentively stepping through the wooden door. He found himself embraced by warmth and the smell of old books, books that flooded the tall shelves and soft couches. Sleepy in its small flames, an unkempt fire lazed in the back of the room. Could Ven be hiding here? Just as he noticed a door that was on one of the side walls, it slammed open. Someone raced into the room, afterwards doubling over to catch his breath and shut the door with caution.

Surprise rammed into Zevran- his breath left him as though a vacuum had sucked it out of him. "Matlock!"

Matlock turned- noticing Zevran for the first time- and red flushed his already blushing cheeks. Zevran knew he was feeling the same shock.

"Zevran?" His tone turned snide, "That's an awful mask by the way."

"Are you here for Ven?" Zevran replied, his tone dry and ginger. There wasn't any time for idle chat.

Confusion twisted Matlock's pretty face, but he composed himself quickly. "Of course. You too, I'm guessing?" Zevran cursed under his breath. Adan couldn't know that Matlock was here. And he certainly couldn't know that this mage knew of his assignment.

"Zevran?" Adan's booming voice haunted the empty room. He was getting close.

Zevran grabbed Matlock's arm and dragged him behind a bookshelf. "That's my partner. He can't know you are here."

"Partner?" Matlock raised an eyebrow. "So, I was right about you. You do have an interest in guys."

"What? No, I can assure you I-" Matlock interrupted him with a laugh, his eyes glittering with fragments of light, before leaning in a few inches from Zevran's face.

Zevran felt time slow, his heart speed up; he felt his face warm, but his back chill. He wanted to end the anticipation- anticipation that seemed eternal and overwhelming.

Adan ended it for the both of them.

His voice vibrated within the small room, "You found him!"

Zevran pushed Matlock away, embarrassed and puzzled- at himself, and at Adan's words.

Adan released a hearty laugh. "You are a prodigy. Although I think you took lure a little too seriously." Zevran and Matlock stood frozen as Adan continued, "I mean come on, look at the drawing." He threw a large finger in Matlock's direction. "You do realize that boy is Ven, right?"


End file.
